Select

by Patricia Reding

  Goodness. Why? How?

  I’ll explain later. For now, just hurry. We’ve got to get out of here.

  But Marshall, there are things going on here that we need to know more about.

  What things?

  Zarek has already ordered troops into Oosa.

  Marshall groaned. He said that?

  Yes. They’re scouting where best to invade.

  What of Broden? What did you learn?

  Jerrett was quiet for several seconds. I’m sorry, Marshall, it doesn’t sound good.

  Why is that?

  I heard Sally and Janine talking to him.

  Oh?

  They mentioned something about how Carlie had been beaten. Also, I heard him with Zarek and the priest. They may have been talking about Carlie’s situation when Pestifere told Broden that he should take better care of his property.

  Again, Marshall groaned. Listen, we need to leave. Make your way to Cark’s place, find the trapdoor I told you about earlier, and then follow us.

  But what of Carlie?

  I’m sorry, Jerrett, I don’t think there’s anything we can do for her now. From what you’ve just said, we already have plenty we need to let Lucy and the others know.

  And the great sword?

  Great Ehyeh, I’d forgotten about that.

  We can’t leave it here.

  No, Jerrett, but we can’t stay here to get it, either. We’ll have to come back for it.

  Are you sure?

  I’m certain. We got what we came for: information. Now we have to get out of here.

  What happened? Why are you leaving in such a rush? I thought you were going along to get the slave women.

  I killed Cark.

  What?

  With my channel.

  Oh, Marshall, how could you let that happen?

  It’s a long story. Just get over here quickly. But be careful. It’s likely guards will soon surround this place. You need to get here before they do—and no one must see you. I’ve unlocked the front door for you.

  If you’re sure . . .

  I’m sure. And Jerrett?

  Yes?

  If you don’t catch up with Chaya and me, we’ll find you in the City of Light. We have to warn them of what is to come.

  After finding his way out from the cellar, Jerrett, with Bane at his side, made his way toward Cark’s home. Soldiers on horses, and wagons filled with everything from building materials, to food for the kitchens, passed by. Campfires threw their sparks into the air. The sounds of men sharpening their weapons, of their gambling and drinking away their earnings, filled the evening air. With the arrival of the emperor, a buzz of activity had taken hold of the camp.

  He dared not rush. Concentrating on appearing nonchalant, Jerrett meandered along his way, as though he was just another camp resident.

  As he neared his destination, his eyes searched the area. Finding no one present, he approached the front door. Just then, two soldiers came toward him from around the side of the building, out from the darkness.

  “What are you doing here?” the first asked.

  Bane growled. His hackles rose.

  Jerrett patted the canine’s head. In that moment, to his surprise, he felt his attendant magic. In years past, through it, he’d experienced a special connection to an animal—his horse, Donagh. Now he felt Bane’s presence in a similar manner. It was as though he shared thoughts with the beast. He glanced down at him briefly and then looked back at the soldiers.

  “I was told to check in here.”

  The men approached. “By whom?”

  “Ahhh . . . I was told to report anything to Cark about the emperor’s entourage that I thought he might want to know.”

  “Well, we can’t get anyone to answer the door,” the soldier said.

  “I see.” Jerrett stepped back. He had to get inside, but he dared not let the men know what he was up to. He looked about. No one paid any attention to what was going on at the residence.

  He latched onto the door handle. “Well, let’s see if it’s locked.” He turned it and the door fell open.

  “Stop right there,” the soldier ordered. “You’re not allowed in.”

  Once again, Bane growled.

  Jerrett glanced at his sidekick. The canine turned his gaze to his newfound master, the light from nearby campfires shining in his eyes.

  Jerrett could take one of the soldiers with his Oathtaker’s blade, but it was unlikely he could take them both down without attracting unwanted attention. Still, he knew Bane understood—he could feel it. Confident the animal would follow his lead, the Oathtaker reached for his weapon. In one smooth move, he grabbed his blade, drew it forward, then flicked his wrist.

  His weapon soared to the chest of the first of the soldiers—his intended mark.

  Meanwhile, Bane, growling deep in his throat, leapt toward the second man, his jaws open wide, his lips curled, his vicious teeth exposed. Soundlessly, they clamped down on the man’s neck, puncturing his jugular, and bringing him to an instant halt.

  Jerrett retrieved his blade.

  Bane held his quarry between his teeth and shook it.

  “Good boy. Come. That’s right. Let’s go.”

  He had no time to lose, no time to hide the bodies. He stepped inside Cark’s home, closed and locked the door behind himself, and then made his way to the trapdoor.

  He opened it, then lit a flare. He glanced down. There lay Cark’s body.

  “Come on, boy. Can you jump?”

  Bane’s tail drooped. He whined.

  “It’s all right, boy, I’ll go first.”

  Jerrett put out his flare, then jumped down, Cark’s body softening his landing. He lit another flare, then looked back up.

  “Come on, boy.”

  Above, Bane watched, prancing and whining.

  “Come, Bane.”

  The canine stood steady, then suddenly, jumped down.

  Quickly, Jerrett dropped his flare to put it out, and then grabbed at the animal to steady his landing.

  “That’s my boy,” he said as he lit another flare.

  Bane looked at the Oathtaker with his mouth open and what appeared to be a smile on his face. He wagged his tail.

  “Good boy,” Jerrett said. “Stay.”

  Having noticed a ladder leaning against the wall, Jerrett placed it at the opening. He climbed back up.

  The sounds of men shouting outside, met him. He had to hurry. He grabbed the rug used to cover the opening in the floor and carefully pulled it forward to cover the entrance even as he closed it. He climbed back down and then lit another flare.

  Dropping down to his hands and knees, he looked for the opening to the tunnel below Cark’s desk that Marshall had described to him. When he found it, he crawled inside. Then he called Bane to his side. Looking back, he considering using a crystal to set the place, along with Cark’s body, on fire, but then decided against doing so. A fire would surely invite unwanted attention. As things stood, it would take the others some time to find the opening to Cark’s hideaway.

  He called out by magic. Marshall!

  I’m here.

  I’m coming.

  Good. You’re not far behind us.

  Jerrett and Bane rushed through the tunnel. Before long, they caught up with Marshall and Chaya.

  “I’m glad you made it,” Marshall said. He introduced Chaya to his friend. Then, looking down, he asked, “What’s that?”

  “Oh,” Jerrett said, chuckling, “that’s Bane.” He told Marshall of his new connection to the animal and how it had helped him.

  “All right. Well, let’s keep going. Chaya and I took enough of Cark’s hidden gold to buy some mounts at the first place possible once we’re out of here.”

  “Sounds good,” Jerrett said.

  Soon, they made their way to the tunnel’s exit. They all stepped out.

  Chaya stood with her head back and her arms stretched out, her face tilted up.

  Watching her, Marshall grinned. �
��Chaya?”

  She looked his way.

  “You, standing there now . . . just like you are . . . That’s the image I saw in my last premonition.”

  She smiled. “I’m free.”

  “You are—for the moment anyway. We’ll have to hurry.”

  Jerrett looked back into the tunnel. “Marshall, I’ve an idea. Suppose we use crystals to cause a cave-in. That way, if any guards know of this exit, or if they find it, they can’t make their way out right on our trail.”

  Marshall’s brow rose. “You don’t think we might need it to re-enter at another time?”

  “No. When we return to Chiran, I suspect it’ll be for the great sword—and that will go where Zarek goes. Likewise, if we return to rescue Carlie. But Zarek isn’t likely to be here for long.”

  “Do it.”

  Jerrett grabbed a few crystals—those he knew would cause an explosion—from his pocket. He threw them inside, and then ran.

  Marshall and Chaya followed.

  When the blast came, the three instinctively covered their heads. Then they glanced back to find the rock crashing down upon itself, closing the entrance to the cave.

  “Let’s go, then,” Marshall ordered.

  Chapter Forty-One

  A cold breeze rolled off the Sea of Topanga, a large inland body of salt water that stretched without end before them. It swirled in the surrounding grove, summoning the fallen leaves to rise into the air, like smoke from flames striving to consume dampened wood. The water breaking on the rocks at the water’s edge, the whisper of the breeze, and the rustling, crackling sound of the dancing leaves, offered a natural symphony. It was the only sound the traveling women heard all that day as they worried their way around the southernmost reaches of Topanga. Sylvana, a hardwood forest, flanked their other side, as they traveled back to the City of Light.

  Basha allowed the breeze to blow hair from her face. She tucked her chin in, rolled her shoulders forward to shelter her partially exposed neckline from the cool air, then cupped a hand over one ear as she turned back toward the forest.

  The Oathtaker and her charge, together with Professor Hadwin, had sent out teams of Oathtakers and Select to the seven provinces of Oosa, to notify others of their plans to congregate in the City of Light. Making the best use of their time, Basha and Therese assisted in the search.

  It had taken the better part of a week to follow the treacherous trek meandering through the Troll Mountains. From there, the women headed east to scout for more villages settled nearby. Just days ago, they celebrated their finding of a half dozen Select and nearly two score Oathtakers. It took some talking, but the women managed to convince those they’d found to make their way to the City of Light, and to collect all the additional Oathtakers and Select they could find along their way. They hoped to meet up with them all before long in a first ever gathering of its kind.

  An intense prodding, an earnest desire for a successful mission, kept the women on track, through rain and shine. Obedient to the call, Therese had commented from time to time that only Ehyeh could source the impetus they felt. As usual, she rode to her Oathtaker’s left, so as to grant her protector the freedom to pull a weapon with her right hand in a flash, should the need arise.

  For her part, Basha had become increasingly introspective over the past days. Though when necessary, she fully engaged with the locals, she said little to Therese, the woman who for years had been like family to her.

  “Is everything all right?” Therese finally ventured to ask.

  The Oathtaker’s eyes maintained their steady attention before her. “Yes, as I’ve told you and told you, everything is fine.”

  Therese pursed her lips. “Something is not fine.”

  Basha shrugged.

  Therese rode Cloud, a steady gray mare. She pulled on the equine’s reins. Cloud stopped, pulled her head up, flicked her tail, and whinnied.

  Basha, hearing the sound, and finding Therese no longer at her side, swiftly turned her dark bay mare, Nightingale, back. Riding in a circle around her charge, her gaze darted about, scanning the area for any signs of danger. Finding nothing amiss, and noting that Therese sat still and tall in her saddle, she brought her mount to a halt.

  “What is it?” Whether it was anger or frustration that laced her voice was difficult to tell.

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” Therese said.

  Basha rode out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Therese, having met her Oathtaker at her side, again pulled on Cloud’s reins, and again, the mare halted.

  Realizing she rode forward alone once more, Basha turned Nightingale back again. “Nothing is wrong, Therese,” she said.

  Her charge stared at her. “Your words say ‘nothing,’ but your voice says otherwise. Do you take me for a fool?” She patted Cloud’s neck. “Tell me now. What’s bothering you?”

  The Oathtaker mimicked her mannerisms, pursing her lips and raising her brow, but said nothing.

  Therese’s eyes narrowed. “You’re angry with me. Why?”

  “I’m not angry.”

  “Of course you are. If you could see yourself, you’d know how little you’re hiding.” She grasped her arm. “Basha, I thought we didn’t keep secrets. Isn’t that the way this is supposed to work?”

  Breaking her charge’s hold on her, Basha pulled her head back, feigning surprise. “Oh, of course, I’d forgotten. I’m supposed to tell you all, but it’s all right for you to keep secrets from me.”

  Therese dropped her gaze. A long, silent moment passed. Finally, she glanced back up. “I don’t understand. What secrets are you talking about? What have I done? Why are you angry?”

  “I’m not angry.”

  She watched Basha closely, noting her body language, her averted eyes, and the set of her jowl. “Oh, I think I see now.”

  “See what?” This time the anger in Basha’s voice reached her eyes.

  Therese glanced out, across the sea. Her eyes fixed on a small fishing boat rocking in the tumultuous waters. A flock of gulls swarmed around it, the sounds of their cries just discernible over the crashing waves.

  “I’m sorry, Basha. I thought we’d resolved all of this.”

  “Resolved all of what?”

  “Now that I think on it, you’ve been . . . distant . . . for some time. Ever since that night you went to speak to Professor Hadwin. I should have seen it sooner.”

  Basha stole a momentary glance at her charge.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? Hadwin wanted to know about the time I was away from you. About how I kept you—kept anyone—from finding me.”

  The Oathtaker pulled her shoulders back. “Never mind. Let’s go.” She turned away.

  Once again, Therese took her arm. “No. I’m not going anywhere until we resolve this.”

  “Resolve this? What’s to resolve? You left. You kept your whereabouts hidden. You knew I’d worry for you, look for you, fear for you, yet you—”

  “Chose to hurt you.”

  Basha’s eyes flashed in anger.

  “Is that what you were going to say? That you think I chose to hurt you?”

  “You did. Talking to Hadwin just brought it all back again. You—”

  “Never apologized,” Therese interrupted.

  The Oathtaker refused to look at her charge.

  “I’m sorry, Basha. I know I hurt you, and it was wrong of me.”

  “Fine. Let’s go then.”

  Therese tightened her hold. “My dearest friend, I’m truly sorry. I thought it best that everyone thought I was dead. Those I was with convinced me that I should, so as to remain safe.”

  “Including Lucy.”

  “Yes, including Lucy. Her friends found me and nursed me back to health. When she arrived, they all agreed that she should take me to the compound she was preparing as a place of safety for Rowena and her children. But Basha, Lucy would only take me there if I agreed to keep my secret from everyone—including from you.”

>   “And what Lucy wanted was more important than letting me know that you lived.”

  Therese exhaled slowly. “I thought she was right. She wanted to keep me safe, and she wanted to keep the compound’s existence, secret. If you’d disappeared, others might have surmised that I’d survived that fall. They might have gone looking for you—looking for me. They might have found the compound. Then it wouldn’t have been available as a place of safety for the twins—not to mention as a place for us all over these past years.” She glanced back out to the fishing boat as it slowly made its way to shore. “I am deeply sorry, Basha, that you were hurt.”

  “That I was hurt,” the Oathtaker repeated, shaking her head.

  “Let me rephrase that. I am deeply sorry, Basha, that I hurt you.” Therese’s eyes did not stray from her friend. “I should have said this years ago. I didn’t realize—”

  “How I might have felt?” Basha looked at her charge, held her gaze.

  Therese looked down, nodding. “That’s right. I take all the blame and responsibility. I only ever thought about the pain I experienced when I was without you. When we were reunited, it— Well, it was as though all was right with the world again. And I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t give sufficient thought to what I’d done to you—how I’d hurt you—how you must have feared for me.” She looked back up. “I am truly, and deeply, sorry.”

  Basha glanced out to sea. She nodded. “I didn’t realize how much hurt I was still carrying until I spoke with Hadwin. It was as though it all came rushing back. I guess I feared that . . . that—”

  “That what I would do once, I might do again?” her charge interrupted.

  “Yes, I guess that’s about it. I realized that some small unspoken voice has harried me all these years. It’s a voice that whispers in my weakest moments—moments when I feel most vulnerable—moments when I come closest to facing my own fears. It tells me that I know no sure thing in this world.”

  “That’s my fault. But I swear to you, on my life, that it will never happen again.”

  Basha grinned. “I’m the Oathtaker here, not you.”

  “Even so,” her charge said, returning her smile, “I swear on my life that I’ll never do such a thing again—that I’ll take your fears and concerns into consideration before acting.”